by Maggie Wells
“Of course you did.”
“I offered my services in a few different capacities, but all the research and testing teams seemed to have all the help they needed.”
She huffed her disbelief. “How? Why?”
“Somehow my so-called celebrity managed to eclipse my expertise.” He turned his head and offered a wan smile. “Then the whole thing with the friggin’ volcano blew sky-high and my credibility went in the crapper.”
He swallowed hard, trying not to let the rage of those endless weeks boil over into his time here with her. The whole world knew his brand-spanking-new Voyager producer spliced some spectacular footage of an undersea volcanic eruption from 2006 into an episode he’d shot concerning the aftermath of the 2011 tsunami. Within minutes of the airing, people he’d thought of as friends and colleagues started e-mailing him lengthy dissertations on the differences between earthquakes and eruptions. Late night talk show hosts added jokes about epically slow-moving tsunamis to their monologues. The National Globe informed the world he’d been dumped by both Miley Cyrus and Kim Kardashian and featured a quote from Brittany Spears saying she was disappointed he wasn’t as “super-smart” as she thought he was.
Turning to Brooke, he forced the words out from between taut lips. “Some people think my Ph.D. lost all meaning the moment I signed a contract and strapped on an action camera.”
Indignation flared in her eyes. Seeing the spark helped cool his anger. As if he could let her take up the fight for him. As if he would.
Wearing a tight smile, he raised one eyebrow. “I guess it’s kind of funny, considering my credentials were what landed me the job with the network to start.”
Brooke snickered softly and he jerked back. Bright amusement lit her eyes, but he’d meant funny in an ironic, totally unlaughable way.
“What?” he asked.
“Your credentials may be impeccable, but they sure as hell aren’t what scored you a job strutting around on TV in a wetsuit.”
Offended, he glared at her. “I don’t strut.”
“Swagger, then.” She ran her fingertips across his chest then tweaked his nipple. “A few other bits of you are equally im-pec-able.”
The playful flick of her finger sent a crazy zing of pleasure-laced pain zipping through him. Her nonchalance was both soothing and annoying. Soothing because saying these things, sharing the hurt he’d kept hidden for three years with someone who might be able to relate, felt damn good. Annoying because he was spilling his guts out, but he had a sneaking suspicion his grievances were going to be met with a pat and a murmur along the lines of ‘oh, poor baby.’ Maybe an ass slap. If he was lucky.
He opened his mouth to issue a retort, but she silenced him with one finger against his lips.
“Brian, they picked you because you had the looks and the smarts. But if I can tell you one thing from experience, people favor one over the other.” She lowered her hand. This time a sad smile accompanied the shrug. “They usually pick the wrong one, but not much you can do about human nature.”
He tugged on a lock of silky blond hair. “You should know.”
“And you know genetics are as predictable as the lottery.”
Pressing his forehead to hers, he sighed. “You came up a winner right off the bat.”
“And you are like one of those Megaball jackpots that keeps building and building over time.”
He chuckled and shook his head, bemused by her analogy. “Only suckers buy in on those.”
Brooke grinned as she rolled back, catching his hand in hers and using the power of a beautiful naked woman and the laws of momentum to pull him down with her. “Who can resist the possibility?”
“I prefer probabilities.”
She ran her fingers through his hair, her nails leaving trails of tingles in their wake. “And still you gave it all up. Walked away from the career you’d built because someone screwed up and you became the butt of a few lame jokes. You always did have too much pride for your own good.”
He refused to take the bait she dangled. Instead, he simply nodded. “Finished out my contract and broke my agent’s heart.”
“Your agent.” She laughed and shook her head.
The movement made the tips of her breasts rub against his chest. The sensation had him racking his brain for one of those lame jokes. Anything to make it happen again. Shifting his weight from his hands to his elbows, he settled himself on top of her. His dick pressed into the soft curve of her stomach. Silky thighs rubbed against his. His groan turned into a growl when she wrapped her endless legs around him.
“I can’t believe you have an agent.” She grinned up at him. “She seems nice, though.”
“I can’t believe I’ve got you naked and pinned to my bed. And my agent is a shark. Trust me, I should know.”
A feline smile curved her full lips. “What are you going to do with me now…Dr. Dalton?”
“I’m going to show you how dedicated I am to my”—he tucked his chin to his chest and glanced meaningfully at their bodies pressed close and tight— “research.”
“I hear it’s not how big your credentials are, but what you do with them.”
“Lucky for you, I’m an overachiever.”
* * * *
The smug smile Brooke wore told Brian she knew he was watching. The hectic color in her cheeks said she liked it. He’d learned to live with the day-to-day shock and awe inspired by the ocean’s ruthless power and might, but of all of the breathtaking sights he’d seen, Brooke Hastings bare naked in his tiny galley had to be the most striking.
Turning to face him, she licked the knife clean as a whistle before tossing it into the tiny sink. He smirked at the paper coffee filter she’d re-purposed into a plate, but it was damn hard to play it cool when she sucked a glob of grape jelly from her thumb.
“Like what you see?”
“Very much.” He took the triangle of sandwich she offered. “I told you I’d take you out for a bowl of gumbo or something.”
“I like it here.”
“Do you not want to be seen with me?” The question popped out of his mouth before he could snare it. He cringed when she paused, her half of the sloppy sandwich poised at her mouth.
Her forehead puckered in confusion. “Are you kidding?”
Her incredulous tone was gratifying, but it didn’t dissolve his need to know. He’d already stepped in it. He might as well get the answers he craved. “Mostly, but not really.”
“I didn’t want to go out because we’d have to wear clothes.”
Looking at her, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever questioned her wisdom. He caught a flash of white teeth just before they sank into mushy white bread. A stream of purple jelly slithered down the side of her hand. One lucky drop fell to her pink-tipped breast and he cursed himself for being a fool. A crazy, pathetic, needy fool who dared to question the benevolent gods who brought her back into his life.
“You know, you’re not exactly the class nerd anymore, Bri.” Scooping the lucky drip of jelly from her breast onto her fingertip, she offered it to him. “And I’m not the queen of anything these days.”
“You have a Pulitzer Prize nomination.”
“Right. It’s an honor to be nominated and all. Blah, blah, blah.” She took another healthy bite of her PB&J. “But that’s okay,” she muttered as she chewed. “I’ll get it one day.”
“I’m sure you will.”
She fixed him with a pointed glare. “And I can do it with or without your help.” Nudging his elbow, she nodded to the half sandwich in his hand. “You’d better eat. You might need your strength.”
His eyebrows jumped, but he took a tentative bite. Forcing the bread down his dry throat, he watched as she polished her half off in three voracious bites. “What do you mean with or without my help?”
Cheeks bulging, she held up one finger to halt the inquisition as she chewed. He watched the muscles in her jaw and throat work, both aroused and mildly disgusted by her patently un-southern be
lle antics. His dick stirred with interest when she paused to take a long pull from a bottle of water.
“It means,” she said with a slight gasp, “I have data, sources and experts on call, and a handful of local hot buttons to push.” Brooke offered him a drink from her bottle as she sat on the edge of the bed. And because her mouth had touched it moments before, he took it. “I’ll keep pushing, and eventually I’ll get it out. The idea of using you was a means to an end, but I really don’t need to drag you into this. You’re right. The publicity wouldn’t do you any favors. I’ll find someone else.”
He blinked and his hand clenched. The crackle of plastic bounced off the walls. A small geyser shot from the bottle. It both thrilled and mortified him that she thought she needed to protect him.
“Oh!” The lilting ripple of her startled laughter drew his attention to the bottle crushed in his hand. Her sweet smile softened the glint of mischief in her eyes. “I didn’t mean for this…us.” She waved a hand between them. “I meant the research and stuff. As for the interview…I’ll do it because I need to finish what I start. I wish I could feel better about it.”
Her tone caught him off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s been weird between Nels and me since the nomination.” She heaved a soft sigh. “Nels was my mentor when I started at The Courier. I was silly enough to think he’d be happy about my success, but we both know people aren’t always altruistic, don’t we?”
“No, they aren’t.”
“I cooked a pizza using solar power. You have to admit, it was pretty darn cool.” She cocked her head. “I remember you telling me it would be cool the day we turned in our project ideas, but I guess you were being nice because you were sure you’d win.”
“I wasn’t…I didn’t….” He stammered to a stop when she hit him with a razor-sharp stare. She was right. He was sure he’d win. He didn’t think her project had a snowball’s chance in hell of beating his. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Brooke smiled. “Sorry I kicked your ass, Brian.” Holding out her empty coffee filter, she nodded to his neglected sandwich. “You gonna eat that?”
He narrowed his eyes. “No one likes a know-it-all.”
“Losers don’t like a winner.” She grinned as she plucked the sandwich from his hand and took a huge bite. “My mama taught me the rules,” she said through stuffed cheeks. “In first grade, I beat Laney in the Miss Ice Cream Social pageant and she kicked dirt on my white patent leather shoes.”
“So you’ve been friends ever since?”
“Mama also taught me to keep my friends close and my enemies closer.”
He must have looked shocked because she blessed him with a smile so angelically radiant he had to fight the urge to genuflect.
“Apparently, Emmaline Hastings is the Sun Tzu of Mobile Bay area.” She toasted him with the remnants of the sandwich. “Who knew?”
“And me?”
“What about you?”
“Am I friend or foe?”
Lowering the sandwich, she searched his eyes. “You….” She passed the PB&J back to him then dropped her gaze as she dusted her fingertips on her bare thigh. “For years I wondered why you kissed me. And why so public, so…angry.”
“Wasn’t anger. It was frustration.”
Brian pulled the flattened filter from her hand and used it to wrap the rest of their snack. Setting the bundle aside, he gave in to the compulsion he’d been suppressing since about the ninth grade. He ran his fingers through her hair. Not to hold her or stroke her, but for no other reason than it gave him pleasure to touch those tempting strands of spun gold at will. With one tangled wave trapped between his thumb and forefinger, he tested the texture and tensile strength of the lock before twirling it around his finger as she used to do when lost in thought.
“In a weird way,” he said, “you were my best friend.”
The widening of her eyes told him the confession struck home. He hadn’t realized all they were to each other back then, but all the pieces fell into place the moment he saw her. Brooke’s half-hearted defense of him in high school wasn’t simple Christian kindness or the condescension of the girl crowned queen of all things. It was the result of a higher consciousness.
“Yeah, I thought we were friends,” she said softly.
She blushed and he saw what she must have known all those years ago. They were a matched set. So alike. Too alike. Both smart, confident, and ambitious in their own ways. But Brooke had a set of social smarts he’d never developed. She’d reigned at the top of the social strata from the day she was born, and he was a marker of how far she might fall if she stepped off the pedestal. He understood why she’d hesitated then. What he didn’t get what why she was so open to him now.
He recaptured the curl. “What happened to you after high school?”
“What?”
“I mean, you’re different than you were then.”
“So are you,” she retorted. “You’re the biology geek. Wouldn’t that be a natural part of our evolution or something?”
The tart response made him smile. “You only talk like that to me.”
“Like what?”
“All sassy and smart-assed.”
“Not true. I’m a smartass most of the time.”
His smile grew. “Yeah, but you never let it out. At least, you didn’t back in high school. Except with me, sometimes.”
An eyebrow arched and she pursed her lips. “Well, we were best friends and all,” she drawled.
Her breath caught when he brushed his thumb across her lips. His heart kicked up when her eyelids lowered. “Best of friends, worst of enemies?”
“Are we frenemies, Brian?”
“We’re lovers.” Rolling up to meet her nose to nose, he backed his correction with a gentle caress and a firm kiss. “Scary to think what might happen if we really did join forces.”
“Like the Super Friends?”
He fixed her with a fierce scowl. “Another one of your nerd jokes?”
“Aquaman and Wonder Woman?” She wagged her head, a smile tugging at her mouth. “I always thought there was some unresolved sexual tension.” She pushed her fingers through his hair, jerking his head back enough to give her the upper hand. “He was always cranky and anti-social. She was never afraid to take him down a notch.” She brushed a feathery kiss across his lips. “I think he secretly liked it.”
“I’m willing to bet money on it.” He kissed her again, this time drawing her bottom lip between his and sucking ever so gently before releasing it. “Aquaman was married, you know. It could never happen.”
“Shh. You’re blowing my fantasy.”
“I’m sorry.” He slid his hands down to cradle her ass and flashed an insincere smile as he drew her astride him. “Funny thing about fantasies, it looks like all mine are about to come true again.”
Her nails bit into his shoulder as she found her balance. He sucked a sharp breath between his teeth then relaxed into the pain.
“Aren’t you the lucky guy?”
Dragging his attention away from the soft press of her breasts against his chest, he looked straight into her eyes. “I win.”
Brooke framed his face with both hands and lowered her mouth. “I let you.”
“I figure it’s time we…consolidate our powers, Wonder Woman.”
Amused by the analogy, she shook her head. “I’m not sure your porpoise friends will like riding in my invisible plane.”
“We can sort out the logistics later.” Warm, moist breath teased his lips, but she held back on the kiss he desperately craved. “Don’t try to play it cool. Not with me. Not anymore. You want this as much as I do.”
“You can’t prove it, doctor.”
He brushed her hair back from her face. “Why do I get the sneaking suspicion you want me to tie you up with your lasso of truth?”
“Because you are a very, very smart man.”
Chapter 9
It had been a good day. As hard as
it was to pry herself from Brian’s grasp the night before, Brooke mustered the strength. She had a story to write. And a decision to make. Plus, she wanted to maintain a little mystery. As much as she curled her lip at those who ascribed to dating ‘rules,’ she had to admit to some truth in the cliché about absence making the heart fonder.
Whether she wanted to admit it to him or to herself, she wanted Brian to grow fonder. No one was more familiar with the thrill of the chase than she. She’d dogged stories for months and months, pulling threads until she unraveled secrets and exposed fatal flaws. Then, once the story was put to bed, she promptly forgot all the details. A part of her was scared it would be the same with Brian. Or for him.
Alone with her thoughts and the memory of his hands on her, she spent the evening transcribing the recording of their oft-interrupted interview. Then, she sat down and wrote, the words flowing swift and sure as the Mobile River into the bay. Not the typical features section spread. She wouldn’t insult the trust Brian placed in her with anything as trite as a tabloid exposé or teen magazine Q and A. With the sound of his voice playing in her ears, she spun a story of a local boy transformed into a successful man. She kept his love of science and the Gulf Coast the focal point, and stayed far away from the swoon-worthy smile and primetime good looks. She said nothing of his struggles with the network or the overblown accusations that made him chum for the late-night television sharks.
Somewhere in the midst of writing Brian’s story her fate was sealed. It wasn’t a deliberate decision, but more of a kind of calm. This was it—the last time she would jump through the hoops Nels set for her. Now, she was glad she was the one who got to do the profile on Brian.
The truth was she’d uncovered unexpected depths. About Brian, and about herself. Every answer he gave seemed to fill in the backstory on the quirks and foibles she’d seen all her life. Every anecdote made her want to know him better. He’d shared a story about the first time he helped to mend a bird’s broken wing, and the real reason he ended up on the track team. It was just like Brian to letter in a sport because he enjoyed monitoring and testing his body’s ability to build endurance and respond to stress.
